


I’d love to see me from your point of view

by Bellelaide



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Harry Kane - Freeform, Lack of Communication, M/M, Premier League Football - Freeform, Son Heung Min, Time Hops, Tottenham Hotspur FC - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:48:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27474514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellelaide/pseuds/Bellelaide
Summary: A series of snapshots detailing the relationship between Harry Kane and Son Heung-Min.There was no feeling of happiness like it. Harry thought he might burst or float away on it. He was almost petrified of the come down from it and spending the rest of his life chasing a moment as euphoric as this. He couldn’t find the words, didn’t know what to say as he hugged whoever he could get his hands on.And then Harry saw Sonny and something about the joy on his face and the way he was celebrating made everything click in Harry’s brain. Sonny was Spurs and Sonny was football and Sonny was happiness and Sonny was everything Harry wanted to be close to for the rest of his life.
Relationships: Harry Kane/Son Heung-Min
Comments: 17
Kudos: 104





	I’d love to see me from your point of view

**Author's Note:**

> this is fully dedicated to KaneSon nation on Tumblr who are entirely responsible for picking up on what is such a beautiful relationship between two teammates. This is just my interpretation of what that connection looks like. 
> 
> the title is from POV by Ariana Grande because, well, it just makes sense. 
> 
> so sorry about typos or grammar errors. not sorry enough to proof read this very efficiently, but sorry to you lot and to future me who will no doubt read this with my toes curled.

_9th May 2019_

_It was strange how a few hours of sleep and the cold light of day put things in perspective._

_Harry was hyperventilating in a corner of the hotel lobby with last night’s clothes on and his suitcase only half zipped beside him. It was quiet down here, which was a godsend, because he couldn’t stand for anyone to recognise him right now. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was vaguely aware that his head was thumping and he needed water. Harry looked around for any sign of the hotel restaurant and instantly felt nauseous at the thought of food._

_Luckily no one else from the team was downstairs yet. Or maybe Harry had missed the bus to the airport. He couldn’t get his thoughts straight. He was a coward, he was a moron, he was a fool. He’d had the best night of his life but when he woke up anxiety settled in and his thoughts started racing and Harry ran._

_He put his head in his hands and tried to breathe. Maybe he could go back and they could talk and things wouldn’t feel so awful - but then the weight of his job and his reputation hit him like a tonne of bricks and he was back to square one._

_“Harry?!”_

_Harry jumped at the sound of his name. It was Sonny, and he looked so defeated that Harry nearly broke down then and there. “Harry - what -“_

_“I just couldn’t be in the room. Sonny, what we -“_

_Sonny held up his hands and eyed Harry like he was scared of him and Harry wanted to scream. “Keep your voice down! Relax. Nothing is happening, H. What is so different from yesterday? What has changed?” He hissed._

_“Nothing. Everything. Sonny - on my phone this morning. Fucking videos of everyone. Videos of you and me. I had my hands round your neck. There were cameras everywhere and we all forgot and -“_

_“What are you talking about?!”_

_“We shouldn’t have. We have these careers, right? This pressure? We shouldn’t have done that. We could ruin it all.”_

_Sonny’s mouth pressed into a tight line and he wrapped his arms around himself. Harry instinctively wanted to hug him but he was too scared to move. “I thought you were braver than that. I thought - it doesn’t matter. Okay, Harry. I get it.”_

_“And we can’t let it affect us,” Harry begged. He didn’t know what he was saying. He didn’t know why he was freaking out. “It can’t affect the game.”_

_“It won’t affect a thing,” Sonny said. He turned so quickly Harry felt like he’d been slapped in the face._

_After the high had to come the lowest low, and Harry was there now. And he’d dug the hole all by himself._

_6th July 2020_

It was the sound of Sonny’s voice that made the hairs on the back of Harry’s neck stand up. 

Sonny was _angry,_ in a way he very seldom was, and Harry found himself glancing around for the Amazon cameras. Stupidly, protectively, he didn’t want this to be recorded. 

“It’s the same for you! The same for Harry, the same for Lucas!” Hugo shouted. 

Harry looked from Hugo to Sonny. His heart felt sore at the look on Sonny’s face - dejection, anger, embarrassment. Harry wanted to step in and say something, to tell Hugo to leave it out, but he felt frozen. He couldn’t stop thinking about the cameras. 

Harry was shaking as he dug around for his water bottle. He heard their voices pick up tempo and when he turned around again Serge was pulling Hugo away from Sonny, putting his entire body into it. Heat flooded through Harry as he looked at Sonny trying to defend himself. 

He sat himself down in the seats that had been set out for them all and chewed hard on his bottom lip. He couldn’t bring himself to look up when Sonny walked past him, the anger coming off him in tangible waves. Harry’s mind raced with a thousand different scenarios - getting up and sitting next to Sonny; going over there and talking to him, apologising; telling Hugo he was out of order. 

But then José was talking and it was too late. He had to stay put now. José was addressing it, Christ, and Harry wanted the boss to put Hugo in his place. Tell him that he wasn’t the manager, that he shouldn’t lash out like that on the pitch. Keep it for the dressing room if he must. Better yet, keep it for somewhere they weren’t being filmed. 

“If you are a kid. If you are a spoilt guy? It’s very bad.” 

Harry’s heart lurched. Was José calling Sonny spoilt? Sonny, who gave so much for this club. Sonny, who went out there day after day and carried them to fucking victories they often didn’t deserve. Sonny, who had single handedly pulled the club through when they were ridden with injuries last season. José was calling Sonny spoilt? 

“If you take it in the right way, you become stronger.” 

Harry bit his lip hard. That wasn’t fair - they weren’t being _fair._

He couldn’t bring himself to turn around in his seat. He didn’t want to see the look on Sonny’s face and he didn’t want the cameras to pick up his own reaction. He looked down at his knees instead, studied the hairs on his thighs. 

When Mourinho dismissed them for the second half Harry hung back slightly. He caught Sonny as he stomped towards the pitch, having to jog to keep up. 

“Ignore him,” he said, voice low. “Just ignore that shit. Hugo takes it out on the first person he sees. We all know you couldn’t have been any -”

“You could have spoke,” Sonny said without looking at Harry. “And you said nothing.” 

“Yeah, well I just - the cameras are on, so -“ 

Sonny scoffed. “The cameras, of course. Forget it Harry.” 

He jogged away and Harry watched him go, not quite brave enough to go after him. He straightened his back and rounded his shoulders as he emerged onto the pitch under the glare of the floodlights. 

Hugo was clapping his hands together near the goal, warming himself back up. Harry steeled himself and ran over, aware that they had just seconds before the whistle blew. 

Hugo looked up at him with a tight nod and Harry wanted to throttle him. Where was the aggressive energy he’d just been slinging at Sonny? 

“Hey, Hugo?” Harry called, getting close and covering his mouth with his hand. “Lay off Sonny, yeah?” 

Hugo frowned. “Excuse me?” 

“Just leave him alone. Don’t ever talk to him like that again.” 

Harry’s heart raced as he jogged away, blood rushing in his ears. He hated confrontation more than anything in the world, but he couldn’t let that slide. He took his place on the pitch and tried not to feel Sonny’s eyes boring into the back of his skull. 

** 

They won the game in the end. Hugo and Sonny ended up hugging, too, and Harry didn’t like how Sonny opened his arms and grinned that deliciously warm smile right at Hugo like he even _deserved_ it. 

Hugo lifted Sonny right off his feet for a split second and Harry felt hot rage burn in him out of nowhere. He disappeared into the changing room and ached to be away from the fucking cameras. 

When Sonny came inside Harry gave him a one armed hug and his skin prickled. He knew that somehow, even though it wasn’t his fault, Sonny was angrier at Harry than he was at Hugo or José or anyone, really. 

Harry glanced over at Sonny on his little chair and ached with the need to go over and squat down in front of him, to grip the back of his neck and pull him in and say _I’m fucking sorry, okay, but I didn’t want there to be videos of me arguing with my teammates out there for the entire world to see._

Sonny could hold a grudge, too. Harry knew that better than anyone. He could be so stubborn, so bitter, and that wasn’t fucking fair because all Harry had ever done was - 

“H?” 

Harry snapped away from that thought and looked round at Ben, who seemed concerned. 

“Sorry mate. What’s up?” Harry asked, feigning nonchalance. 

“Just checking you’re okay. You’ve been quiet, that’s all.” 

“Intense game,” Harry answered without looking at Ben. “That’s all. How are you?” 

Ben sounded unconvinced. “Fine. But Harry, you know if you ever -“ 

“Cheers mate,” Harry smiled, patting Ben on the back and pulling his bag over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow yeah?” 

Harry didn’t wait for Ben’s reply, but he did wait beside Sonny’s car, drumming his fingers on the bonnet and trying his best not to imagine how Sonny would look spread out in the backseat of the thing. 

Sonny rolled his eyes when he approached the car and saw Harry waiting. “Go home, H,” he said. “It’s late.” 

“I told Hugo he was out of order,” Harry said. “I told him not to speak to you like that again.” 

Sonny shrugged. “Okay? What do you want me to say?” 

What _did_ Harry want him to say? He wanted Sonny to invite him round. Then he could hang out for a while, have some cuddles, be reassured that Sonny wouldn’t hold this against him. But they didn’t do that anymore, not really. Not since Amsterdam. 

“Can I come over?” 

“Not tonight. Busy.” 

Harry felt dejected. “Sonny -“ 

“I have to go, Harry,” Sonny said, and without looking back he got into the car and started the engine. Harry watched the car until it disappeared round the corner at the end of the car park and sighed. 

** 

Harry texted Sonny at 2:17am that night. 

_Harry Kane: im sorry i didnt say anything earlier sonny  
i shouldv stuck up for you  
please dont be angry with me_

With that sent, he was finally able to drift into an uneasy sleep. When his alarm went off six hours later, there was a simple reply. 

_HM Son: I could never be angry with you. But H  
I will always have your back. You have to have mine too ok?_

Harry put his phone face down under the pillows and tried to remember how to breathe. 

_28th August 2020_

It was one of those perfect August days that made Harry feel electrified. The air was warm but fresh, and there was a gentle preseason friendly against Reading on the agenda. 

Harry wasn’t playing which suited him fine. It was nice to sit back and watch the boys play, to have the chance to analyse and plan for how he’d fit in during the upcoming season. 

The first to score was an opposition own goal, and Harry felt sorry for the Reading player who’d done it. The second goal was Dele, though, and that was nice. Harry sat back happily after that, feeling content. Dele deserved a good season. He needed it. 

The third goal was a blinder. The ball passed from Lucas to Sessegnon flawlessly, perfectly, and Harry’s heart was in his mouth when the ball found Sonny. He was surrounded by Reading defenders - anyone else would’ve found it impenetrable - but Sonny controlled it and flicked it effortlessly through the gaps in their wall, tucking it precisely into the bottom of the net. 

Harry’s heart thumped as he watched Sonny celebrate, his face lit up with happiness. There was something about that, Harry thought - something about the way Sonny played intuitively, always in the right place at the right time, like he was steps ahead of everyone else and waiting for the game to catch up with him. 

And whenever he did score it was mesmerising. He shon, glowed, lit up. When other people scored it often felt like aggression or testosterone, like pride. When Sonny scored it was purely magic. 

Harry wondered if he couldn’t tap into that a bit more than he had been. There was no reason why he couldn’t just pass it across to Sonny a bit more, especially when the pay off was so deliciously sweet. 

He thought back to that night in Amsterdam after the Champions League Semi Final and put his head in his hands to hide the heat he could feel spreading over his cheeks. He’d made Sonny incandescent with happiness that night and the thought of that alone had him riding on his own personal high. 

Maybe this way, through scoring goals together, Harry could recreate that feeling again and again and again without feeling guilty about it. 

“I think we’re going to win the Premier League you know,” Harry Winks said suddenly from behind Harry. “Just feel it. It’s in the air.” 

Kane cleared his throat and turned around. “I’m too scared to even let myself imagine it,” he said honestly. 

“Well imagine it,” Winksy said boldly. “Cos it’s happening.” 

“You gonna score the winner, Winksy? Injury time against Liverpool?” Harry teased, getting to his feet as the half time whistle blew. 

Winksy laughed. “Nah, we’ll know we’ve won it by April.” 

Harry smiled and patted Winksy’s shoulder as they headed into the tunnel. “That wouldn’t be very Spursy of us, would it?” 

Winksy opened his mouth to respond but Harry didn’t hear him. Sonny had appeared at his side, panting but radiating happiness. 

“Did you see that H? I scored,” he breathed, and Harry put a hand on the back of his neck without thinking too much about it. 

“Course you did,” he responded, voice low. “So good out there. You’re so good.” 

Sonny smiled so big Harry could count every single perfect white tooth in his mouth. He swallowed hard. 

“Five years today,” Sonny answered. “Five years today at Spurs.” 

“What you gonna do to celebrate?” Harry asked with a grin, his hand still on Sonny’s neck, thumb carding through the strands at the nape. It was so much easier now that the fucking film crews had cleared off, Harry decided. So much fucking easier just to _be._

Suddenly Sonny’s face fell and Harry dropped his hand like he’d been burned. _Fuck._ There were things they didn’t discuss - don’t ask, don’t tell - and maybe this was one of them. Maybe Harry had just asked a question he wouldn’t like the answer to, something that would keep him up for the next few nights. Sonny, celebrating with some model between his legs. Two models, a bottle of champagne, a Covid test with a coy grin the day after. 

“Sorry, silly question -“ 

“Nothing,” Sonny said quickly. “I’m not doing anything.” 

Harry felt his knees knock with relief. Relief he didn’t deserve, and they both knew it. “Maybe, if you wanted, I could buy dinner or something. A thank you for all the goals and shit. Would be lost without you, so it’s really only fair.” 

Sonny looked at him with a little bit of a frown that Harry really really wanted to smooth away with his fingers. He could barely stand the intensity of the look in his eyes. Criminally dark eyes, deep like the warm velvet of the Earth beneath their feet. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was fucked. They didn’t do this - not anymore. They didn’t meet up alone. But Harry had just asked anyway. 

“Listen up!” Mourinho shouted, and the moment was shattered. Sonny blinked at Harry one last time and then he was gone, finding a seat and sitting on it, creamy thighs crossed delicately across each other. Harry bit his own tongue so hard he tasted pennies. 

Mourinho’s speech didn’t even register in Harry’s mind. Sonny didn’t stop to talk after half time either, and he was back on the pitch before Harry could catch up with him. Harry watched him carefully, looking for signs that Harry had upset him or said something out of pocket. He could usually tell what was going on in Sonny’s mind but he was struggling today, too caught up in his own anxiety to grasp what wasn’t being said. 

Sonny took a hit shortly into the second half that had Harry on his feet. He was lying on the grass clutching his back and Harry had to dig deep to find the willpower to stay in the stands and not walk onto the touch line and direct the medics to go and get him immediately. 

If anyone noticed Harry’s behaviour they didn’t say anything, and before long Sonny was on his feet and Lamela was taking a free kick. Harry sat back on his seat heavily and glared at Mourinho, mentally screaming the words SUB HIM OFF. 

Sonny didn’t need to be out there any longer. The last thing they needed was for him to injure himself in a fucking pre season friendly. Harry was getting _mad,_ and he wanted Sonny OFF.

The substitution came in the 81st minute. José replaced Sonny with some kid Harry couldn’t remember ever having a full conversation with. Harry sat back in his seat and glowered as Sonny came off and hugged everyone, took a leisurely drink of his water, unlaced his boots and put on some sliders. 

Harry took out his phone and scrolled through his emails for something to do, sighing to affect boredom. Maybe he could ask Dier to hang out tonight instead. He was always free since he’d given up shagging about. Harry was about to ask Winksy to join these provisional plans when he caught Sonny’s eye and his brain froze up. 

Sonny nodded at him, just once, but Harry knew. It was a yes. He tried to fight a smile but he couldn’t help it, and his lips were tugging up and Sonny beamed in response, shaking his head and looking away coyly. Harry was glad when the final whistle blew and he could get to his feet, the energy racing through him almost overwhelming. 

** 

He knocked on Sonny’s front door at exactly 6:30pm with two bags of takeaway food from his favourite Thai restaurant in his hands. 

Sonny answered the door with floppy half damp hair and grey joggers on that hung off him indecently. Harry looked determinedly at Sonny’s face, smiling and holding up the bags. 

“Happy 5 year anniversary,” he joked, toeing off his trainers in the doorway and stepping into the hall. “Superstar.” 

Sonny grinned and looked down at the carpet and Harry had to bite his lip to keep from beaming back at him like a smitten school boy. Harry ushered himself into the kitchen and placed the bags down on the worktop, taking time to wash his hands carefully. 

Sonny got plates and bowls out of the cupboards and dug into the bags. “I’m starving,” he muttered. “So hungry.” 

Harry leaned on the counter and watched quietly as Sonny piled rice onto his plate, followed by spoonfuls of steaming spicy curry. Harry made a mental note: Sonny; happiest when scoring goals, eating food, meeting fans, talking about his parents, petting cats... lying back on his - 

“Aren’t you eating?” 

Harry snapped out of his spiralling thoughts and nodded. “Yeah, sorry. Just letting you get sorted first.” 

“You always let me go first,” Sonny teased quietly. Harry choked on his own saliva. 

“Come and sit down,” Sonny smiled innocently, taking his plates over to the big white couch and tucking his legs under himself. 

They put the TV on whilst they ate but they didn’t pay it any attention. They couldn’t stop talking, laughing round mouthfuls of food and discussing anything and everything. They talked in depth about the upcoming season, Harry telling Sonny what Winksy said about them winning the league by April. 

Sonny couldn’t stop grinning at the idea of it, even after he’d finished his food and was lying rubbing his round tummy, eyes half closed and sleepy with contentment. Harry decided that sleepy blissful Sonny was a close second favourite behind wildly happy Sonny. If there was a way to keep him in one of the two states forever, Harry would’ve done it. 

Harry cleared the plates and rejoined Sonny on the sofa. He sat back down closer this time and Sonny moved in towards him, sighing happily and leaning into Harry’s side. They could have this, Harry thought, letting his fingers settle into Sonny’s hair. 

“Five years at Spurs,” Harry said. “Couldn’t imagine it without you.” 

“Best five years of my life,” Sonny said wistfully. “I love it, H.” 

“Do you ever think about life if like, you hadn’t been a footballer?” 

Sonny let his hand fall against Harry’s hip and Harry willed his body to behave. 

“Sometimes. If I had stayed in Korea, what I would’ve done. Been married by now, have kids. Live a quiet life.” 

“I feel like I’d do anything for a quiet life,” Harry said. “Take the pressure away.” 

Sonny was the only person Harry knew who got it. They were both captains of their National Teams, both their countries’ poster boys for the sport. The pressure to be perfect was suffocating sometimes. The others didn’t get it - it was the life goals, the perfect job, the career they all wanted. They couldn’t imagine why anyone would ever complain. Neither Harry nor Sonny were ungrateful, but that didn’t change the fact that it was fucking hard. 

“One day you’ll have a quiet life,” Sonny said after a few seconds. “Then you can do whatever you want. With whoever you want.” 

Harry’s hand stilled in Sonny’s hair. “Sonny...” 

“Sorry,” Sonny said quickly. “Have they let you see any of the documentary yet?” He asked, changing the subject. 

They were meant to be getting a first look at it before it went out to the public on Amazon, but Harry hadn’t seen it yet. “Nah,” he replied, restarting up his rhythm in Sonny’s hair. “Not sure I even want to see it. Won’t even be in half of it, not with all the injuries.” 

“The poor fans,” Sonny joked. Harry could hear the smile in his voice. 

“You’ll make up for it, won’t you superstar?” Harry teased back, pulling on Sonny’s hair a little harder. “You’re the one they all want to see.” 

“Shut up and play with my hair.” 

Harry chuckled and they were quiet for a while. There was a voice whispering at the back of Harry’s mind, asking menacing questions like _why can’t it just be like this all the time?_

There was no reason why it couldn’t be, not really. It was 2020. No one had to know officially. They could even just be housemates or something. They were _happy_ together. Sonny could take Harry home and show him things like Changdeokgung Palace. Harry could show Sonny Blackpool tower. 

“Why weren’t you doing anything tonight? Thought you would’ve had plans,” Harry asked, breaking the silence. 

Sonny shifted around a bit and Harry regretted asking once again. 

“You don’t have to answer that.” Harry said quickly.

“I was going to meet up with someone,” Sonny said in a rush. “But I cancelled. No big deal.” 

It felt like a punch in the gut. Harry had no right to be jealous, had no right to care. Sonny hadn’t even fucking gone, had picked Harry, and yet Harry felt like a hand was round his throat squeezing tight. 

“You cancelled just to sit here and talk shit with me? That’s well sad.” Harry meant it to come out jokingly but it had a bit of an edge to it that he instantly wished he could take back. 

Sonny’s reply was quick. “I’m meeting her tomorrow instead. It isn’t that sad.” 

Harry took his hand out of Sonny’s hair and Sonny sat up straight. Things were awkward again, and Sonny looked pissed off, and Harry wanted to cry. 

“That’ll be fun,” he said instead, looking at the time on his watch. “Taking her anywhere nice?” 

Sonny shrugged one shoulder. “Probably just a fuck.” 

Harry blew out a breath and raised his eyebrows. “Nice.” 

“Maybe if you got laid you’d be a bit more relaxed.” 

Harry looked at Sonny like he’d slapped him. “Excuse me?” 

Sonny’s eyes shone like he was debating whether to push this or apologise. Harry stared at him, daring him to continue. Thinking maybe it would be better if he did and they could just have it out. 

“Thanks for dinner.” Sonny said finally, seeming deflated. 

“You’re buying next time, yeah?” Harry offered, but it was forced and Sonny didn’t reply. Harry got to his feet and patted his pockets for his keys, shuffling slowly towards the front door. 

Sonny waited as Harry pulled on his shoes. Harry took a long time with his laces as he thought through things he could say to turn back the clock on this conversation and go back to cuddling on the sofa. 

He straightened up and looked at Sonny with a sigh. Son had his arms wrapped around himself and he looked small and sad and Harry _couldn’t take that._

He crossed the distance between them and pulled Sonny in close, pulled his head against his neck and buried his nose in Sonny’s hair the way he should’ve done back in Amsterdam. “I just want to see you happy,” he said. “I need to see you happy.” 

Having Sonny close was like an instant remedy for the heartache. His smell and the heat of him, the way he fit so perfectly against every part of Harry’s body. The way he made Harry feel. 

“You can make me happy,” Sonny replied, accent thick. “You know how I -“ 

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

Sonny placed his hands on Harry’s hips and gently pushed him back, putting space between them again. His eyes were heavy but he smiled, and it broke Harry’s heart. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Okay. Tomorrow.” 

“Drive safe.” 

Harry had to force himself to leave. He nearly didn’t manage it. 

_21st September 2020_

The first half had been shockingly underwhelming. Southampton were already 1-0 up and the mood in the dressing room was bleak. José was talking about playing as a team, about unlocking the Southampton midfield, and Harry was listening but he wasn’t concentrating. 

He wasn’t concentrating because Sonny was sat right next to him and had let his knees fall open until his thigh was pressed against Harry’s. Sonny knew how Harry felt about his thighs and he was doing this on purpose right now. His stupid shorts were pulled up and his stupid legs were touching Harry’s and Harry couldn’t _concentrate._

“We need to change tactic,” Sonny leaned in and whispered. The movement made his thigh ripple. 

“Yeah?” Harry asked, barely cognisant. 

“Find me. When you get the ball just pass it and I’ll get it.” 

Sonny moved his hand and let his fingers trail along the hair on Harry’s own thigh and Harry suddenly had to try very, very hard not to get an erection. 

“What... if I can’t see you?” Harry asked dumbly. 

“I’ll be there,” Sonny breathed. “Trust me.” 

Harry looked straight ahead and swallowed. Things had been tense since their last dinner, and Harry knew he’d upset Sonny. This was like an olive branch though, and Harry wanted to grab it with both hands. He wanted to fall into Sonny and beg him for forgiveness. Maybe a couple of assists would do the trick. 

“If you get me a hattrick I will buy you dinner,” Sonny mumbled. “Whatever you want to eat.” 

Harry could do that. He could fucking do that for Sonny. 

**

Harry collected the ball from Ndombelé and before he even knew what he was looking for he clocked Sonny, sprinting fast through the red shirts and already watching Harry, already anticipating the next few moves. 

Harry waited until Sonny was in space and then he passed, a fucker of a kick that had the ball sailing at speed past the players racing towards it. Sonny was on it, controlling the ball with a single touch, bringing it to heel under his feet. The Southampton defenders were on him and the window of opportunity was closing, narrowing - Moura was getting into position, ready to take over, but Sonny didn’t need him. 

Sonny kicked it with his right foot and it found the net easily. Harry was thrilled, that delicious satisfaction that could only come from Spurs scoring, _Sonny_ scoring, and Harry assisting it taking over him. Harry wanted _more._

The next time Harry got the ball near the net he pivoted with the ball at his feet and instead of making the run like he would’ve before he flicked it away, certain that Sonny would be on the end of it. Sonny found the ball and carried it the final few feet, sending the ball into the net with his left foot this time. Harry was mesmerised. 

His heart drummed as if he’d scored the goal himself. There was something about watching Sonny score - the way he spread himself out like a ballerina, the line of his arms and the power in his thighs. Harry felt dizzy with how badly he wanted. 

One more assist and Sonny would get dinner with him. Harry could make sure this time was different, could end things on a good note that would no doubt translate into their game. It was win win. 

In the lead up to the third goal Harry was sure Sonny would miss it. He didn’t have time to think properly about where he was placing the ball, not with the way these Southampton players were pressing him. Harry half expected Lamela to collect the ball, but no - Sonny sailed out of nowhere and brought the ball under control using his fucking _thigh_ and it was in the net before Harry had time to register. 

The fourth goal was gluttony on Tottenham’s part, but it couldn’t be helped when Harry and Sonny were in this headspace. They were incredible together. Harry watched Sonny celebrate and marvelled at how well they seemed to know each other. 

The fifth goal was one Harry didn’t even plan to score, but the ball hit the goal post and it would’ve been silly not to tap it in. Southampton got a final penalty but it didn’t matter. Harry and Sonny had delivered a masterclass. 

The final whistle blew and Harry felt glorious. He grabbed Matt Doherty into a hug and whooped out loud with Dier. Ben pulled Harry into a bear hug and leaned in close to his ear. 

“That was brilliant,” he said. “You and Sonny are brilliant.” 

Harry let Ben go and set his sights on Sonny, who was carrying the match ball around and grinning like a little Cheshire Cat. Harry reached out for him and grabbed him without thinking about the cameras or any other person on the pitch. He knew his own smile was splitting and it wasn’t exactly in keeping with the stony facade he usually tried to uphold, but he was past caring. 

With a swell of excitement he turned to the camera and pointed at Sonny. “He’s paying for dinner,” he said, not caring who saw. Fuck it. He didn’t want to pretend he didn’t think Sonny was the best thing in the entire fucking world. 

“First time,” Sonny said, looking up at Harry. “First time.” 

Harry grinned at him. “Is it? No,” he teased, smile making his cheeks hurt. 

Sonny beamed back at him and tossed the ball up into the air. Harry dropped his eyes in an attempt to stop himself from from exploding with the feelings swamping him. 

José grabbed Harry in the locker rooms. “That was good,” he said, hand firm on Harry’s shoulder. “I liked that. More of that.” 

Harry nodded. “We work well together,” he said. “He’s good for me.” 

José couldn’t get another word in because Dele was pulling at Harry, tucking his arm around Harry’s neck and ruffling his hair. 

“Who’d’ve thought the great Harry Kane could be that selfless on the pitch?” He teased, making Harry laugh. 

“Shut up,” Harry replied, pushing him away gently. “I’ve always been a giver.” 

Dele scoffed as Harry pulled his sweaty top off and sat down on the bench. “Nah, you assisting like that? At that level? That’s a Sonny thing.” 

“What? Shut up,” Harry said, trying to laugh it off. 

“He’s right,” Dier said from Harry’s other side. “You’ve totally got a Son thing.” 

“No I haven’t,” Harry said. He knew he was blushing. 

“You do. You do whatever he wants.” Dele said matter of factly. 

“Like you two and Winksy then?” 

“Did someone say my name?” Winksy chirped from nowhere, phone in hand as always. 

“No,” Dele said quickly, shoving Winks in the shoulder. “Get lost.” 

Winksy looked indignantly at Eric. “Eric! Did you hear that!” 

“I’m off,” Harry muttered, leaving them alone. He glanced around for any sight of Sonny and wished he hadn’t - Sonny was all over Moussa and Pierre and Harry didn’t like that one bit. 

He resented Moussa’s hand on Sonny’s arm and hated the way Pierre was tickling at his soft black hair. He was furious that Sonny was laughing for them and he wanted to tell them both to keep their hands to them fucking selves. 

“Sonny.” Harry barked, causing all three of them to freeze. “Text me about dinner, yeah?” 

Sonny’s eyes twinkled as he nodded. “Okay, H. See you soon.” 

Harry was going to kill him - if Sonny didn’t kill Harry first. 

** 

It took two days for Sonny to text. Harry was irritated and needy, and his imagination had done nothing but run wild. 

He laid awake the whole first night imagining Sonny having a threesome with Moussa and Pierre, which was fucking ridiculous but wouldn’t stop torturing him. 

He spent the next day worrying that Sonny would link up with Bale as the season progressed and leave Harry out on his own. Harry didn’t know which fantasy disturbed him more. 

He worked out in the gym until his muscles burned too hot to continue and he sat down in the shower until his fingertips were wrinkly. He checked Sonny’s WhatsApp status hourly but couldn’t quite bring himself to text first. 

When Sonny eventually did reach out - _can I come over in 15? I will bring chicken_ \- Harry almost wanted to tell him no as a matter of principle. 

Still, fifteen minutes later exactly he was opening the door and letting Sonny in, snorting at the Tupperware boxes of meal prep from the nutritionist in Sonny’s hands. 

“That’s hardly buying me dinner,” Harry said by way of welcome. 

Sonny wandered into the house without replying, and Harry rolled his eyes and straightened up the shoes Sonny’d just kicked off at the door. They looked like they’d just come straight out of a shoe shop, immaculately white. Harry wanted them to maybe live in his hallway forever. 

“Where’ve you been?” Harry asked casually as he joined Sonny in the kitchen. 

“Around,” Sonny said mysteriously, opening one of the Tupperware boxes and spearing some chicken on a fork he’d taken. “You excited to go to Macedonia?” 

Harry shrugged. Their next Europa league game was tomorrow and Harry knew nothing about the team they were playing. “Excited to play footie, yeah.” 

“You gonna eat?” 

“Do you want to watch the Great British Bake Off?” Harry asked instead of answering. He wasn’t very hungry suddenly. He just wanted Sonny to be close and stop fucking evading him. 

“The what?” 

“Bake off. It’s about -“ 

“I know what it is. I just - why?” 

“It’s just nice,” Harry replied. “Cosy.” 

“Okay,” Sonny smiled. “But you should eat.” 

Harry took his Tupperware over to the couch and flicked on the TV. He patted the space next to him and Sonny folded himself into it, blinking at the TV like he thought they were actually going to watch. 

Harry set up last night’s episode of Bake Off and stretched out, arm falling along the back of the couch behind Sonny’s head. 

They watched for a few minutes, Harry grazing at the chicken Sonny had brought. It was quiet but not awkward or uncomfortable. Harry wanted to pull Sonny on top of him and squeeze him tight. 

“I hate brownies,” Sonny muttered at the TV, shaking his head. 

“Who hates brownies?” Harry scoffed. His heart was beating steadily as he brought his hand up and put it carefully into Sonny’s hair, fingers pressing gently along the tendons in the back of his neck. 

“Me. I do,” Sonny said. “That feels nice, H.” 

Harry wished he wasn’t wearing shorts. He shifted slightly to hide his crotch and rubbed his thumb a little harder. “What’s your favourite desert then?” 

Sonny groaned slightly and pushed back into Harry’s hand. He let his own hand come to rest on Harry’s knee, fingers moving in a slight circle. “Strawberry cake.” 

Harry hummed and pulled slightly on Sonny’s hair before massaging the area again. Sonny’s eyelids fluttered and Harry’s mouth was dry. “Course it is,” he said, voice gravelly. “Strawberries do taste good.” 

Harry pulled firmly on Sonny’s hair again and this time he moaned. There was no way Harry could hide the line of his cock now; and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to. This was dangerous and they both knew it, but they were also both _adults_ and life was short and hard and Harry wanted this. 

“Fuck, Harry,” Sonny breathed, cheeks pink. 

“Your accent sounds more German when you’re horny,” Harry heard himself saying. He’d waited to say that for over a year. 

“I’m not horny,” Sonny protested, but Harry could see him shifting in his jeans uncomfortably. 

“I gave you four assists,” Harry said. “How are you going to thank me?” 

Sonny snorted and Harry pulled on his hair _hard._

“Don’t be cheeky, Sonny.” 

“I brought you dinner,” Sonny said breathlessly. “That’s my thanks.” 

“That’s all I get? Some chicken from the nutritionist?” He moved his hips just so, and he bit his lip when Sonny’s eyes dropped to his lap. 

“You’re so big, Harry,” Sonny breathed, his eyes darkening, tongue darting out to lick at his lips. 

“Yeah I am, baby,” Harry heard himself saying, and he was pushing Sonny’s head down slightly in encouragement, willing him to just - 

The doorbell was so loud and sudden it made Harry cringe. He shot up off the couch, taking one last look at Sonny who was staring back at him in bewilderment. Harry cleared his throat and readjusted himself in his shorts and ran a hand through his hair, trying to breathe, trying to think of who the fuck could be at his door. 

He took a deep breath and yanked open the door. 

“You alright darling?” It was his mum. She had her arms full with bags and she bustled past him without stopping to be invited in. Harry couldn’t believe it. 

“What are you doing here?” Harry asked her as he closed the door and followed her down the hall. 

“Well you’re off to Europe tomorrow aren’t you? So I’ve got you a couple of bits for the airport. Covid is getting bad over there again you know - oh! Hello, Sonny darling!” 

“Mrs Kane,” Sonny said from the couch, trying to smile at her. Harry hoped his mum couldn’t see how pink Sonny’s cheeks were. 

“I’d give you a hug but you know. Safety first! Right, Harry, so I’ve got you a new mask. Cambridge mask it’s called, filters out air pollution and keeps the wearer safe too! And some dettol wipes for the plane. Don’t touch anything you haven’t wiped yet, okay?” 

“Mum - I really don’t think any of this is necessary -“ 

“Of course it is,” she said. “Oh, the Bake Off! Lovely fella that Peter, isn’t he?” 

“Mum!” 

His mum stopped and looked from the TV, to Sonny, to Harry and back again. Her eyes widened. “Oh. Er - shall I just -“ 

“I’m going now,” Sonny said, standing up awkwardly. “You stay Mrs Kane. Harry, I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

Harry wanted to tell him to sit the fuck down but Sonny wasn’t looking at him, couldn’t get his shoes on fast enough. Harry was barely able to say goodbye before the front door was opening and Sonny was leaving with a little wave of his hand. 

_26th October 2020_

Playing against Burnley was _hard_. 

They were a compact and brutal team to play against. It was like trying to sprint through a tangle of ropes, almost impossible to unravel them in the midfield. 

It felt like Burnley were pressing on the Spurs half more often than not. Harry found himself growing frustrated, shouting commands at the midfield and tracking back to do the defence’s job for them. 

He even had to do a goal line clearance after a Burnley corner. He was proud of it of course - the press and the fans would have a field day with that - but still, he didn’t want this game to get anymore spursy if he could help it. If they could win this they’d sail straight to fifth in the league. Harry fucking wanted it. 

It was looking increasingly like it was going to end 0-0. Harry couldn’t even look at Sonny. There hadn’t been much in the way of chances and Harry wasn’t even able to pick out his own goals never mind any assists. 

The minutes ticked by slowly and Harry wanted to get taken off just to make the misery end. He was trying to make eye contact with Mourinho when Tottenham got a corner and he had to drag himself over to the Burnley goal. 

Lamela stepped up to take it and Harry barely even had a minute to think of where he was standing before Coco booted the ball into the crowd. It was heading right for Harry and he steeled himself, prepared to try and control it somehow - but he couldn’t get a leg to it, not with all these bodies so close. He headed it instead in the general direction of the goal, hoping someone would send it the rest of the way. 

Everyone started shouting. Harry looked around in bewilderment and then he saw it - Sonny, sliding on his knees towards the edge of the pitch. Harry laughed out loud, happiness spilling out of him. Fucking Heung-min Son. 

Harry jogged over towards him and he couldn’t hide the look on his face. Sonny was ecstatic, of course he was, and he saw Harry and he took one look at Harry’s face and he said “Did you get the assist?!” 

Harry nodded and laughed and grabbed him. Course he got the assist. Sonny’s face lit up into such pure happiness that Harry wanted to cry. Harry was only 27 but he’d seen a lot of the world. He’d seen sunsets in Brazil and the sparkle of Red Square in Russia. Harry had witnessed Super Bowl finals and the inside of Buckingham Palace. He’d seen clear water in the Caribbean and wide open sunsets in Africa, and despite all that there was still nothing in the world more achingly beautiful than Sonny’s smile. 

Harry finished the remainder of the game with his head woolly from contentment. Somehow this was sweeter than scoring a goal of his own. He didn’t know why - or maybe he did, but he didn’t want to think about that too much. 

Either way, when the game was over and Harry was in his car being driven home he took a photo one of the Spurs PR people had posted of him and Sonny and he uploaded it to his Twitter with the caption “Anything that makes Sonny smile is a good thing.” 

_29 October 2020_

Thursday night football was beginning to take a toll on the team. There was something draining about travelling midweek just to get half a Saturday off before playing gruelling Premier League games in an empty stadium in cold and wet corners of the UK. 

Still, they’d been playing well despite that. Well enough that Harry and Sonny weren’t starting in their game against Antwerp. 

Harry found Sonny on the bus when they got off the plane and sat down beside him without saying much. Sonny hadn’t really said a whole lot to Harry since he’d tweeted about making Sonny smile the other day, and Harry was trying not to worry too much about what that might mean. 

Sonny smiled at Harry when he sat down but it wasn’t his proper smile. Harry’s gut twisted. He took out a packet of chewing gum and popped a piece in his mouth before offering some to Sonny. Sonny held out his hand and Harry paused. 

“Tell me what’s up first,” he said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “What’s bothering you?” 

Sonny sighed and let his head tip back against the seat. Harry glanced over at where Regui, Gareth and Pierre were chatting loudly and moved in closer to Sonny. “Was it something to do with the Instagram post? Should I not have posted it?” 

Sonny shook his head and looked out the window. The bus was moving through Belgium now but it was dark outside, and Harry couldn’t see much beyond his own anxious reflection in the glass. 

“I just don’t understand why you chose to post it.” 

“What do you mean? It was a nice post. You have a... special smile, Sonny.” 

“You say you can’t - you say you won’t - because of what it’ll do to us and what people will say but then you post something like that?” 

Harry blinked at Sonny. He couldn’t think of what to say but Sonny wasn’t done talking anyway. 

“Anyone looking at it would think you were in love with me,” Sonny laughed coldly. “I know that’s not true, of course.” 

“What the fuck?” Harry said. “No they - Sonny? What the fuck?” 

“It doesn’t even matter, H, okay?” 

“It does. If you’re pissed off at me our game suffers and then -“ 

“That’s what you care about most? The game?” 

Harry felt anger then, and he seized it with both hands. “Of course that’s what I fucking care about. Do you hear yourself? Of course the football is a fucking priority for me.” He said it louder than he meant to and Hugo popped up from a seat in front and looked at them carefully. 

“Everything okay?” 

“Everything’s fine,” Harry said snappily. He folded his arms across his chest and looked out the window across the aisle, wishing he could see something other than the look on his own face. 

** 

The game was not going the way Spurs wanted it to. Antwerp scored in the first half and Tottenham couldn’t seem to unlock the game, floundering in the middle of the pitch and making a paltry number of goal attempts. 

Antwerp were playing dirty too, foul after foul that was going to see someone injured for a fucking group stage game. Harry was already on edge after his discussion with Sonny earlier and he wanted to get out on the pitch and take some of his anger out on this team. 

Sonny was brought on first. Harry had a brief moment of wanting him off the pitch, wanting him away from this dangerous game, but he didn’t have long to dwell on it before it was his turn to get out there. 

It made no difference. Harry couldn’t think straight and Sonny wasn’t either, clearly, nowhere to be seen every time Harry got the ball. _This is what I fucking knew would happen,_ Harry fumed. _What the fuck did he think would happen if things went wrong? Why does he think I’ve been so careful?!_

When the whistle blew Harry wanted to scream. He couldn’t get off the pitch fast enough and he didn’t want to hang around to hear José tear into them. Fortunately he didn’t have to, because the manager was in a mood to say nothing and let them stew. 

Harry didn’t care. He couldn’t look at anyone, especially not Sonny. This is what it always fucking came back to. He hoped Sonny could see that now. 

Harry found a seat on the bus and stuck his earphones in. He just wanted to go home and the thought of the hour long flight and then drive through London was excruciating. They were in for training at 11 the next morning, too. Barely a chance to catch up on any missed sleep. 

Sonny boarded the bus with a cloud over his head. He was scowling and he looked livid, and Harry would’ve felt sick about that had he not been fizzing in his own rage. He hoped pathetically that Sonny might sit next to him after all but he didn’t. He sat down next to Højbjerg instead. Harry pretended he didn’t care and looked out the window at the oppressive blackness once again. 

_1st November 2020_

Bale scored his first goal since returning Tottenham and so the mood in the dressing room after the game was electric. 

They were all bouncing around and congratulating Gareth, and Harry was doing his best to try and act like he was happy that they’d won too - _they were second in the fucking league now for Christ sake_ \- but he couldn’t stop thinking about Sonny. 

When Gareth scored Sonny ran over to him and it made jealousy twist in Harry’s gut and he was over there like a shot, leaping and wrapping his arms around where Sonny was hugging Gareth and Regui and leaned in to Sonny’s ear. 

“You don’t know a thing about whether I love you or not,” he said, lips brushing Sonny’s skin. “You don’t get to decide how I feel for you.” 

He let go and jogged away, gave himself some distance from the smell of Sonny’s neck and shampoo and sweat. Sonny didn’t say anything, but that didn’t matter. Harry knew him well enough to know that Sonny understood what he meant. 

** 

Sonny arrived at Harry’s door later that night wearing his pyjamas and holding a Terry’s Chocolate Orange, a bag of honey roast peanuts and two kiwis. 

He held them up when Harry opened the door like they were a peace offering. Harry took one of the kiwis and left the door open, walking towards the kitchen and hoping Sonny would follow him. 

Harry cut the kiwi in half and dug into the juicy green insides with a spoon. Sonny hopped up on the island and tore open the peanuts, shaking them straight from the bag into his mouth. Harry chewed his kiwi and sucked the seeds out of his teeth. He observed Sonny carefully and tried to keep his heartbeat under control. 

“It doesn’t work when we are fighting.” Sonny spoke finally, voice clinical. 

“No. It doesn’t.” 

“And that’s a big risk. Given how you know I feel.” 

“You know how I feel now, too.” 

“We wouldn’t be the first.” 

“No. But we would be the greatest.” 

Sonny put down the peanuts and beckoned to Harry. He looked so tired, and Harry felt like maybe he’d been wrong to string this out so long. It’s okay to admit you’re wrong sometimes, he knew. Good and healthy even. Necessary. 

He walked around to Sonny and stood before him. He tucked a few strands of hair behind Sonny’s ear and ran his thumbs across Sonny’s jaws, down his neck. His heart was jackhammering in his chest just like that first time. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t sure before, after the first time. I’m still not sure, really.” 

“You think it wouldn’t be hard for me? Where I come from?” 

Harry dropped his eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“I feel like being brave, H.” 

Harry looked at the sincerity in Sonny’s eyes and he breathed in deep. “You make me feel like I can be brave too. I want to be brave for you.” 

Sonny kissed him and Harry let him. Harry picked him up after a while, hands and arms full of arse in the most delicious way possible. Maybe it’d go wrong and maybe it’d end in tears. Maybe it’d end in Harry asking for a transfer, losing his role as England captain, losing everything. But maybe it would go right, and if his time at Spurs had taught him anything it was that anything is possible. To dare is to do, as they say. 

Harry carried Sonny upstairs. They left who they were to the rest of the world at the door. 

For a while, finally, they could just be Sonny and Harry. 

_8th May 2019_

_It was Lucas who scored it. Last minute goal, fucking unreal. The scream of the fans was like a jet engine. Harry wanted to cry with happiness._

_An ankle injury had kept him out of the game and it was painful watching the lads losing until Lucas came from nowhere and scored a blinder._

_At the full time whistle it was chaos. The fans were going crazy and so were the team. Poch was sobbing on his knees and Harry grabbed anyone and everyone he could. He fucking loved this team. Every inch of him, every microcosmic being that made up who he was loved Tottenham Hotspur and the men he played with and the fans who loved them right back._

_There was no feeling of happiness like it. Harry thought he might burst or float away on it. He was almost petrified of the come down from it and spending the rest of his life chasing a moment as euphoric as this. He couldn’t find the words, didn’t know what to say as he hugged whoever he could get his hands on._

_And then Harry saw Sonny and something about the joy on his face and the way he was celebrating made everything click in Harry’s brain. Sonny was Spurs and Sonny was football and Sonny was happiness and Sonny was everything Harry wanted to be close to for the rest of his life._

_That look on Sonny’s face was how Harry felt inside but couldn’t explain. Harry was drawn to him in the most overwhelming way imaginable._

_He approached Sonny and all he could think was that he wanted to suck bruises into the skin on his neck. He let his hands come to rest around it and then stopped himself at the last minute. Not appropriate, Harry._

_“I feel electric,” Harry said to Sonny. “I can’t believe we’re going to the Champions League Final.”_

_“Wish you were out there,” Sonny grinned. His Adam’s Apple bobbed when he spoke. “Wish you could know how that felt out there.”_

_“Maybe you could show me?” Harry said. “Later on?” It was cheeky and inappropriate and there was every chance Sonny wouldn’t even catch what Harry meant._

_Of course Sonny was smarter than that. He looked Harry up and down and was about to respond when Dele got in the middle of them and started demanding attention. Harry gave Sonny one last glance before he disappeared to soak up the rest of this glorious and beautiful moment._

_**_

_Sonny fell into Harry’s room and the first thing Harry did was take his time worshiping Sonny’s thighs._

_He sucked and kissed and murmured praises against them until he could see Sonny was hard in his boxers and that gave Harry a buzz to rival the end of the game earlier. His skin was soft and milky and Harry adored the feel of it under his lips and fingers._

_Sonny needily pulled Harry up his body and against his mouth and Harry couldn’t believe it’d taken them this long to fucking do this. He couldn’t keep his hands off Sonny at the best of times, had been that way for a while, but this was another level of want and Harry didn’t want to hold back anymore._

_Sonny was an incredible kisser and that made Harry angry, but when his hand brushed at Sonny’s crotch and found them damp from his leaking cock Harry couldn’t remember why he was angry at all._

_He unwrapped Sonny like he was a present. Sonny was a trophy and Harry was victorious._

_“I fucking love seeing you smile,” Harry whispered against Sonny’s long neck. “I fucking love watching you play football. I love watching you win.”_

_As they lined their bodies up and Harry pressed into Sonny, he was overwhelmed by how it felt like they had been designed for each other. People spoke about it, pundits and fans. They spoke about how Sonny and Harry seemed to be one mind in two bodies. As they lay there together, connected in every way, Harry couldn’t believe how true that was._

_Sonny came first, quickly and easily. Harry wanted to praise him for that but he could barely speak or think about anything other than the pleasure he was feeling. Sonny gasped as Harry fucked into him. Harry could feel every muscle in Sonny as it moved in time with his hips. He sucked down hard on Sonny’s neck and Sonny gasped and said “I love you, H,” and Harry choked on his own saliva and came hard inside him._

_There was a brief moment of clarity after he came that scared him. Sonny was a loving and tactile guy, and it was very possible what he’d just said had been meant in a casual way, the way you meant when you said you loved chocolate ice cream. But there was also a chance Sonny meant that he was in love with Harry, and the weight of that was terrifying._

_Harry felt panic grow in his chest until he looked at Sonny and his dark hair against the white pillows, the sleepy smile on his face. He decided that this was a moment he wanted to let himself enjoy. He wanted to revel in the knowledge that Spurs had made history earlier that night. He wanted to listen to Sonny breathing next to him all night and know that they were at the centre of the universe together._

_As they lay together in bed in the early hours of the morning Sonny rolled onto his side and ran his fingers through Harry’s hair and said “You’re so beautiful, Harry.”_

_Harry didn’t hear that very often and he wanted to hide his face under Sonny’s gaze but he forced himself to maintain eye contact._

_“Sonny,” he breathed. “I’m not -“_

_“You are,” Sonny said, leaned in and kissed him. “You are the most beautiful thing in the world. Everything about you Harry. You are everything I want to be in football.”_

_Harry felt a lump in his throat growing and he shook his head. “You are everything I want to be, Sonny.”_

_“No one gets it how you do, H. The pressure at home. Being the football guy. I see it with you here in England. I don’t know anyone else with that pressure on them.”_

_“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” Harry whispered._

_Sonny kissed him then and Harry smiled. “So beautiful,” Sonny repeated. “So special.”_

_Harry wanted to believe he could see himself the way Sonny saw him. He wanted to ride this wave forever and ever. If he could take the money he earned and somehow pay to have this moment last forever he’d spend every penny in a heart beat._

_“What are you thinking?” Sonny asked._

_“How happy I am. How much I love seeing you smile. How much I love seeing the team win.”_

_“I think those three things could all go together. All the time,” Sonny said. Harry’s heart backflipped._

_Harry pushed Sonny back against the pillows and licked into his mouth. Maybe they couldn’t have this all the time, or maybe they could. Either way, they had right now. They had until the sun came up in the morning._

_Harry decided he and Sonny gave so much to other people - their countries, their team, their colleagues. They gave so much to others but in this bed on this night they were only there for each other. That meant more to either of them than could ever be put into words._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this. I tried to leave the end as open as possible because I’m just not done with these two!! If you liked it pls hit that little love heart down there. Or tell me you liked it, that’ll be kinda cool. Whatever. Love you anyway. Bye bye xxxxx


End file.
